


The Space in Between

by Captain_Cabinets



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Everything you don't want Sherlock to be he is, Hurt John Watson, I'm bad at this, I'm gonna try my best, Inspired by Hannibal, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Probably not a one shot, Sex, Sherlock's horrible, Someone help John Watson, There's plot somewhere maybe not though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Cabinets/pseuds/Captain_Cabinets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to be surrounded by John, his blood, his scent, his body, him. He wanted to touch John from the inside and not in the way that would be easiest; Sherlock wanted John completely at his mercy. Completely bare, open, so the detective had all of him. These thoughts alone were enough to scare Sherlock out of his mind, day by day they were driving him crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Space in Between

Sherlock hadn't always had cravings like this for John, of course the detective always found him somewhat attractive; appealing to the eye in some way or another. But now it was different, his craving for John was beyond anything even the genius himself could understand. He wanted to see John naked, his golden brown tanned skin against the silk black sheets of Sherlock’s bed. But that wasn't it. It wasn't pure sexual desire, to see John writhing and wanting. No, that isn't what the detective wanted. He wanted to see John covered in crimson blood; he wanted the good doctor’s face to be painted with crimson stripes, the red liquid covering most of his worn body. But that wasn't the worst part, no, far from it actually. Sherlock wanted it to be John’s own blood that was covering him, the crimson liquid spilling from a wound in his lower stomach that the detective had created himself. He had cut John open, pulled away his skin and left him bare – his intestines dripping pathetically and limply out of his body. And even though it was impossible Sherlock wished for John to be alive, he wished for John to watch him with those huge, curious, loyal eyes as the detective ruined him; took him apart bit by bit. He wanted to be surrounded by John, his blood, his scent, his body, him. He wanted to touch John from the inside and not in the way that would be easiest; Sherlock wanted John completely at his mercy. Completely bare, open, so the detective had all of him. These thoughts alone were enough to scare Sherlock out of his mind, day by day they were driving him crazy. They were ruining his composure and even looking at John became hard, because Sherlock always imagined him covered in blood.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock and John had been in relationship now for about five months, much to everybody’s and their own relief they were finally together. Sherlock had made the first move, although it was an accident, he just blurted out that he loved John and that it was a simple fact – which then lead to the detective attempting to explain himself. He went on and on until eventually John shut him up with a kiss. Their relationship was good, a healthy dose of cheeky arguing, sex, sentiment and excitement.The two men were very open when it came to sex, obviously they both had their boundaries and both had kinks. They would both share what they’d like to try and if both parties were consensual they’d go ahead and try it out. Five months in and they already managed to cross off bondage, BDSM, age play, Sub/Dom, watersports and public sex from their kink list. It was exciting for them both, the detective and his doctor. Then things got dark. Sherlock began to imagine /ruining/ John. He wanted more than sex; he wanted John to be completely his. He got awfully possessive awfully fast and there was nothing he could do about it. Thoughts flew through his head without him even realising and in a mere minute he’d go from thinking about today’s case to thinking about cutting John’s thighs open. Sherlock didn’t want John out of his sight anymore; he always wanted him to be in view. Always wanted to know exactly what he was doing, how he was feeling, what he was thinking. Of course this wasn’t possible seeing as John had a job at the clinic which he insisted on keeping due to needing money even though Mycroft could supply them with everything they needed. Sherlock guessed John just wanted a job to keep a little, tiny bit of normality in his life. And well, to have some self-respect. Little did John know Sherlock was about to the rid the doctor of all respect he had for himself.

* * *

 

John was on his hands and knees, back arched – his legs were spread. His head was hung and sweat was dripping off of his sandy blond locks. Sherlock was behind John, his dexterous fingers working a vibrator in and out of John’s twitching body. He was overstimulated and used, all he wanted was to rest but Sherlock had other ideas. The doctor could no longer scream or moan, so he was just left mewling and whimpering. Half-hearted groans managing to slip from his lips when he could muster up the energy – bed sheets were fisted loosely within John’s fingertips. His orgasms were coming so fast that they were dry ones, sometimes managing to spurt a small pathetic amount of semen from his overused cock. “Come on, John… Use your words, tell me what you want.” Sherlock purred out, his voice tinged with excitement. The deep baritone purr ran through John, making him tremble and shake violently on his already unsteady limbs. “S-Stop… I need you to stop.” John breathed out, arching his back and squealing as the detective pulled the dildo out all the way to the tip before ramming it back into John at such a force. The doctor swore he could feel it in his stomach, he swore the dildo was ripping him apart. Sherlock only grinned darkly, his eyes clouding over with lust and hunger.

_I want him spread out with an even bigger dildo pressing into him, I want him to able to feel it deep within his stomach and then I want to cut him open. I want to see him squirming and writhing. I want to lick his blood and coat his shimmering golden skin with crimson. I want to fuck him with the dildo and watch as it moves his insides – I want to watch the blood falling pathetically from his limp body. I want him to be mine._

_Completely and utterly mine, surrendered to me. My John._ The detective slowly pulled the dildo out of John, a small relieved sigh falling from the doctor’s lips. Sherlock then moved around to John’s front, sitting in front of the man with his legs wide apart – the tip of his cock brushing over John’s bitten-raw lips. “Come on, John… Make Daddy come.” He purred darkly, his voice was a growl – a possessive needy growl. All the while John was enjoying this, he had a rather strong submissive streak if you got to know him – but he did wonder if Sherlock would've stopped even if he shouted the safe word. He wanted to believe his boyfriend would stop if John was scared, but he noticed the way Sherlock’s eyes changed colour. The way they deepened, the way Sherlock got lost inside himself. That’s what scared John. The dark, unknown depths of Sherlock’s mind. John opened his mouth and weakly leaned up to take the head of Sherlock’s cock in. His tongue moved rhythmically against the slit –coaxing pre-come out. The detective threw his head back, watching as John’s pretty red lips stretched around his cock. His eyes twinkled with something dreadfully evil and incredibly sinful. He gently threaded his fingers through the doctor’s sandy blond locks, tugging on them – forcing a hiss from John’s throat. Sherlock began to thrust up lightly, pushing his cock deeper into the hot, wet cavern of John’s beautiful mouth. “S-Sherlock…” John moaned, drool slipping from his lips. Sherlock continued to fuck John’s face, ultimately ravishing the doctor’s mouth. He was only happy when John began to deep-throat him, the blond man groaning and drooling around the detective’s thick length. Soon Sherlock’s thrusts grew manic and he was choking John. Tears rolling down the army doctor’s cheek as Sherlock thrust harder – abusing his throat. Sherlock then came with a loud, guttural groan – spilling his come down John’s throat. Choking John but forcing him to take it all. Reluctantly Sherlock pulled out of John with a hiss, drying off his cock before he tucked it back into his pants. He untied John, and with a soft smirk threw him a wet flannel before leaving the room; he had experiments to tend to.


End file.
